Black of Hair
by justkillingtime
Summary: This is probably a red herring but I like the idea of it. This is the story of what happened to Robert and Cersei's first son the Black of Hair boy. ONE SHOT


She made the arrangements before the child was born, for a few gold dragons she'd paid the midwives off, paid them to do her bidding. It still amazed her, what acts the poor were willing to do for a few gold dragons. The instructions were clear, if the child was black of hair, if it looked like him it was to be smothered and taken away before Robert could see it. If it was blonde she would keep it, love it and let Robert think it was his.

What Robert didn't know wouldn't harm him; he wasn't smart enough to know about her affair with Jamie. He wouldn't think anything of a blonde little child, a child who looks just like his mother but she would know; she'd know the truth of it; a little blonde babe would be Jamie's.

"You're almost there, one last push," the midwife urged her.

She let out an almighty scream and then the room filled with the sound of a screaming infant.

"Is he?" She asked, she couldn't bring herself to say the rest. She was exhausted but she knew she had to go through with her plan; she couldn't bring herself to raise another one of Robert's black haired children.

"He's gold of hair, Your Grace." The midwife told her as she wrapped the babe in a blanket and handed him to her.

She stared down at his face, at his pretty blue eyes and tiny nose. Even now she could see Jamie in him and it filled her with a warm sense of relief. She thanked the gods for finally giving her, her son and then she drifted off to sleep.

In the weeks following Joffery's birth her love for this son and hatred for the other grew more than she could have imagined. She'd thought maybe, once she had her golden child some of her love for him would transfer to the other but the opposite happened, any love she felt for her first disappeared. She grew to distain the child, all he wanted was her attention, he wanted to cuddle, and play when all she wanted to do was cradle her golden boy.

And then the fever came, out of the blue her first son was sick and she thought it was a sign, the gods had answered her prays to take the wretched child away from her. As the illness took hold Robert worried, he showed more concern for this child than she'd ever seen him show before. It irritated her to no end, infuriated her that he could so obviously love one child more.

She prayed to the mother to take the boy fast, to not let him suffer, while Robert prayed for the boy to heal. She thought her prayers were being answered, the boy was sinking fast and then he stopped. For a day the fever seemed to come down and she panicked.

She could not allow the boy to live, to compete with her Joff, to take everything which she wished Joff to have. Joff was destined to be King not this boy; she'd seen it in her dreams. She had to act now though, she wouldn't get another chance to stop him.

That night she went to his room, she asked to be left alone with him, she was his mother that was her right. If the servants thought anything strange of it they didn't say anything, they just left. She sat on the side of the bed and watched the little boy sleep, he still had the innocence of a child about him but he looked so much like his father it was easy to hate him. Slowly she pulled the pillow from under his head. Her intention was to smother him and blame the fever for his death but the movement of the pillow woke him up.

"Mommy," he said looking up at her and the brightest smile crossed his face.

A moment of humility crossed her and she couldn't do it, she couldn't kill a poor child but she couldn't raise the boy either, she couldn't keep him. Confusion struck her, a feeling she wasn't used to feeling, she didn't know what to do with the boy but she had to get rid of him. She bundled him in his blankets and picked him up.

"We're going for a ride," she told the servants waiting at the door and walked past them before they could stop her.

Wrapped in her oldest cloak she went to the stables, she chose a horse and saddled it herself, the less people who knew what she was doing to easier it would be to fabricate a story, to find some reason why the boy wasn't to return with her.

She rode out of the castle and out of Kings Landing, on to the Kings Road in search of the right people to leave the babe with. She needed people who wouldn't talk, who didn't recognise her by sight, who wouldn't put the facts together when news of the boy's death reached them, no one could ever find out what she was doing, if people found out it would ruin everything.

She rode for hours until her horse reached a stream and lost its footing, its legs gave way beneath him and they all ended up in the water. The horse's leg was broken; she left him there to die and pulled herself and the boy to the shore. She was soaking wet and covered in mud, the boy was crying and she began to shiver but she wasn't ready to turn back. A half mile up the road she saw a house with a light on, that was her target, that would be where she'd leave the boy.

Slowly she trudged up the road, she was cold and wet but full of a new determination, this was going to work, she just had to convince the persons in the house to take the child. As she walked she went over her story and when she reached the door she was ready.

"Please sir you have to take the boy," she began as soon as he opened the door. "His mother has just died of the fever and my husband won't let me keep him. He's got the fever too you see and my husband is afraid our boys will get it too. I can't let my boys get the fever. Please take him." She begged and she trusted the boy into his arms. "He's like to die soon anyway, but you can keep his mother's gold. I wouldn't let my husband take it, if the boy has to go so does the gold I told him. Please." She opened the bag of gold and handed it to the man, he looked inside and a large smile spread across his face.

"Okay, I'll take him." He said with a nod.

"Thank you," she said and she turned to walk away, she took two steps then she heard the man call.

"Wait," he said, "this boy what's his name?"

"Gendry," she said and she began the long walk back to the castle. She was cold and wet but she wasn't miserable, the boy was gone. By the time she'd reach the castle she'd have her story soughed. She'd play the devastated mother to Robert's devastated father but inside she felt a giddy sense of relief. The world was now going to be her Joff's.

**AN: Thanks for reading. This idea is probably a bit of a red herring but I think the idea of it and the possibilities which could stem from it. I'd love to know your thoughts.**


End file.
